


Fissures of Gold

by Nativestar



Series: Mac has Magic [3]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mac has Magic, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nativestar/pseuds/Nativestar
Summary: When Mac accidentally hurts Jack with his magic, Jack learns some startling truths.  Chapter two is part of the MacGyver Found Family and Fluff Challenge weekend!
Series: Mac has Magic [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011972
Comments: 30
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Pandi19 for coming up with the title. And to all my friends who I have such fun bouncing ideas around with.

Jack wakes up in full on fight mode, his arm swinging up in a confused attempt to both punch and deflect. His eyes are wild as he searches for threats and scrambles to his feet, staggering slightly.

The room is empty though.

Or at least empty of threats.

He counts seven bodies and a whole lot of destruction. What used to be an office is now broken furniture and scattered papers. Black scorch marks scar the walls, whipping from floor to ceiling. The glass is missing from the windows and a small fire is burning itself out in the corner.

But no Mac.

This is bad.

Very very bad.

He digs through his memories. They were fighting the men the Old Ones had sent. Cornered. Outnumbered. Jack knew Mac was planning a hail Mary, he could see it in his eyes, a solid unwavering gold that warned of the feral magic Mac was about to unleash.

Then… a blinding pain that took his breath away, ending in nothing. Until now. With shaking fingers, he unzips his black jacket and peels it away from the shirt its clinging to, clinging because it is sticky with something that he realises is blood, his own blood. Spinning around he sees a large puddle of blood where he’d been lying too. But how could he feel no pain? He quickly pulls up his t-shirt, it has a rip across his entire midriff from his right hip twisting up and across to wrap around his ribs. Underneath it is smooth, unbroken skin, except for a thin line of gold that matches up exactly to the rip in his shirt. It shimmers in the light, as if it’s alive. Jack runs the tips of his fingers over it in fascination. The gold feels slightly warmer than his skin, a comforting heat. It makes Jack feel protected and it’s such a familiar feeling that he _kn_ _o_ _w_ _s_ it’s Mac’s magic.

“Oh hoss, what did you do?” He whispers.

He shivers as his blood cools on his skin and he zips his jacket back up. This can wait. Mac cannot. If the Old Ones have him then Jack is on a very limited timer. What they would do to Mac makes him sick, and has Mac waking in cold sweats in the middle of the night.

Jack leaves the building and starts a gentle jog back to his car, his eyes alert for any movement when he freezes. Something caught his eye, but what? He turns back and _there_ behind the dumpster is a very familiar looking shoe.

“Mac!”

The leg tries to draw itself in, to hide from sight but its laughable, Jack has already seen it and he sprints over. Mac is tucked into the corner between the wall and the dumpster, arms wrapped around himself looking like hell. He’s always drained after using his magic like that but this seems more than normal. Mac’s eyes are bright, his face flushed and he doesn’t look pleased to see Jack.

“You gave me a scare, Mac. What happened?” Jack asks as he kneels next to him, his eyes searching for any visible injuries. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Mac says dully. “And it was _me_ that happened.” Mac continues miserably and Jack sighs. He knows how much it hurts Mac to take a life. How he’s probably already playing it back in his head, looking for another solution that he missed.

“You had no choice, pal. You did what you had to.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Mac says, and Jack wonders if he’s actually in shock, he can see he’s trembling and he’s not meeting Jack’s eyes.

“I wish there’s been another choice too, bud, I really do. But if its a choice between them and you, then you damn well better always chose yourself, you understand?” Jack demands but although Mac nods Jack’s not convinced his words are sinking in.

“What are you doing out here anyway?”

Mac shrugs.

“Wasn’t too steady on my feet. Had to rest for a bit.”

Which Jack translates into, I collapsed because I couldn’t go any further. They’ve done this song and dance before, so Jack isn’t _too_ worried, usually some food and a lot of sleep is all Mac needs to recharge.

“Okay, stay here, I’ll go bring the car around for you.” Jack says and adds carefully. “And thanks by the way, for healing me. I know it was you.”

It doesn’t garner the reaction Jack was hoping for as Mac’s face crumples and he wraps his arms tighter around himself.

“You should go.” He says.

“Why?” Jack asks. “Are there more coming?”

“No. You don’t understand. _I’m_ the reason you were hurt. It was me, _my_ magic that did this to you. When I-- When its unleashed like that my magic can be unpredictable, I can’t always control it.” Mac pushes Jack away weakly, as effective as a kitten pawing at him. “I’m dangerous.” he insists.

Jack carefully schools his face to hide his shock but... _shit_ . No wonder the kid is messed up. He’d be messed up too if he accidentally hurt Mac while sav ing his life. Stray bullets, friendly fire, it happens. And yeah, Jack knows Mac’s magic is dangerous, there’s seven dead bodies to attest to that but he’s never been afraid of Mac and this changes nothing. He knows Mac would never hurt him on purpose. But convincing _Mac_ of that is going to be a different story.

“Those men would have killed both of us. You’re the only reason I’m alive, hoss.”

“Don’t. Don’t say that.” Mac shakes his head.

“You are. Mac, it was an accident. I still trust you.”

“I don’t.” Mac says firmly and there’s something in his tone that makes Jack suddenly realise that Mac hadn’t left to get help, he’d been leaving _full stop_. Running away so he couldn’t hurt Jack again no matter how much more dangerous it would be for him without Jack around to watch his back.

“Well I do. And I’m damn well not leaving you behind so you better not be thinking about leaving me behind.” Jack says and guilt flashes briefly in Mac’s eyes before his face twists in pain, brief and quickly hidden. Jack frowns. There’s something about the way Mac’s arms haven’t moved from where they’re clutching his midriff and he comes to a conclusion that he prays is wrong. He gently tugs Mac’s arm away, ignoring Mac’s scowl and sees spots of blood on his shirt.

“Its not that bad.” Mac says quickly. But Jack raises his eyebrows, and realising if he doesn’t do it, Jack most certainly will, Mac reluctantly lifts his shirt to reveal a mirror version of Jack’s own wound across his middle, broken up by stretches and dashes of gold and blood, as if Mac had done only a rough job of fixing the damage.

“ _Hoss_.” Jack whispers.

“You were hurt so bad, and I had used up so much of my magic already.”

“So take some of it back! I can take it.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then how does it work?”

“When I heal, either myself or someone else, it leaves a golden scar. If its bad, real bad, then it has to shared, before I can heal it.” Mac says hesitantly, like he always does when he speaks about his magic, as if one day he’ll say something that will drive Jack away.

“So you took on my wound, before you healed it, and didn’t have enough magic left to heal yourself?”

Mac nods tiredly.

Suddenly, something clicks into place. All those times Jack saw a glint of gold, a flash of brightness against Mac’s skin. He’d thought it was a magic thing, or even a tattoo. But now he was seeing it in a different light. Carefully, telegraphing his movements clearly, he holds Mac’s wrist loosely and pushes up his sleeve. A gnarled coil of gold wraps around Mac’s arm, thick and dull, looking older than the gold across Mac’s torso. Mac isn’t relaxed but he’s pliant, letting Jack look. The moment Mac pulls away Jack will stop, but he doesn’t resist as Jack pushes his shirt up even higher and sees a golden circle on his chest with tendrils and whisps of gold fanning out from it. From a distance, he’d thought it was a sun now he can tell it was a bullet wound.

“I only heal the bad ones,” Mac says sadly. “Its too much of risk otherwise.”

It also explains why Mac always wears long sleeves and Jack has never seen him with his top off.

“I’m sorry you had to heal anything at all, bud.”

Jack hasn’t know this kid for that long really, but he knows that if he had his way there would never be another golden fault line on him ever again. Jack’s knees complain he’s been crouched too long so he shifts to sit against the wall, his shoulder touching Mac’s as he wraps an arm around him. Mac leans into him, giving into the comfort for once. It’s telling.

“Helluva day, huh, kid?”

Jack feels rather than hears Mac’s brief snort of laughter. They need to get out the area and get a safe distance away, not to mention they need to have a good long talk about what’s happened today, but it can wait a moment. They’re both exhausted and they just need to _be_ for a moment.

Everything else can wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't intending to write a second chapter, but here it is! I'm also working on building more on this AU, so for clarity this is pre-series and Mac is a lot younger here, around 22 years old.

Mac falls asleep barely two seconds after Jack’s half carried him to the car.

He also promptly falls asleep on the plane back.

And when they finally, _finally_ get home, Mac is asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow.

And sleeps.

And sleeps.

And sleeps.

Jack manages to get some rest too, or rather his body decides for him. Passing out almost as soon his own head touches the guest bedroom’s pillow. But when he wakes up, looks at his watch and sees that Mac is going on fourteen hours of sleep, Jack knows he has to step in, if only to make sure he doesn’t get dehydrated. He makes a trip to the kitchen before heading into Mac’s room.

Mac’s sprawled on his left side, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch since Jack helped him under the covers. Jack feels a flash of guilt that maybe he should have checked on him sooner, it’s not like Mac has a great track record of telling Jack when something’s wrong, maybe he shouldn’t have taken his word for it that he just needs to sleep this off. He feels for Mac’s pulse at his wrist, as he counts his breaths. Slow, regular and steady. Exactly what you’d expect for someone deeply asleep.

He moves his hand up to Mac’s shoulder, giving it a shake.

“Mac. Bud, time to wake up for a bit.”

It doesn’t get a reaction.

“Mac!” He tries again.

This time, Mac’s face scrunches up and he sighs.

“Five minute’ gran’p’” He mumbles.

“No, sorry, bud. You need to get some food and water in you then you can get right back to sleeping the day away.” Jack insists.

Mac frowns and Jack can almost see the words filtering into his head and their meaning registering. Bleary eyes open and Mac squints and blinks into the sunlight filling the room. He takes a deep breath.

“Right.” He says as he rolls over, revealing an impressive bedhead and pushes the bedsheets off.

“No, no, pal. I got you covered, you don’t need to go anywhere.” Jack indicates the water and buttered toast on the bedside table and Mac stares at them, frowning, before pushing himself up against the headboard with a grunt, shoving the pillows up into a cushion for his back. Jack passes him the water which disappears surprisingly quick, but Mac doesn’t reach for the toast until Jack nudges it towards him.

It only takes a bite or two before Mac realises how hungry he is and the two slices disappear nearly as fast as the water. Taking the empty plate and cup away, Jack tries to assess if Mac’s really okay.

“How you feeling, bud?”

Mac shrugs. Slouched in a loose t-shirt in bed, half his hair sticking up in all directions and looking closer to sleep than awake, Mac looks more like a teenager forced to stay home sick than a powerful warlock.

“Can I check your wound?”

Mac shrugs again, but adds a sigh this time and pushes the covers away to give him access. Jack pushes up the t-shirt and peels away some of the medical tape to check. There’s barely any spotting on the dressing and underneath it just looks like an angry red cut, painful and tender, but all things considered, healing well. Jack puts everything back in place.

“Looks good, Mac.”

Mac nods. “Thanks.” He adds as his eyes dip and flutter.

“Need to get some more sleep?”

Mac nods, his eyes closing and staying shut this time. Jack all but drags Mac down the bed for as much help as he gets and Mac scrunches up the pillows back into an acceptable shape with his arms, while Jack pulls up the covers. The last time he had tucked someone in was some years ago now, but it feels surprisingly natural to do the same for Mac.

Jack waits a moment, as Mac’s breathing deepens and slows. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew Mac would never do such a thing, he’d have thought the kid had put a spell on him. He’d never felt such feelings of protectiveness before, Mac had stopped being just a job a long while ago.

* * *

Jack borrows Mac’s laptop and googles healing. Modern medicine has surpassed magical healing for the most part these days. Not to mention after centuries of propaganda and distrust, people would rather take a course of antibiotics than trust a person with magic to heal their infection. Jack has never heard of a sorcerer healing serious wounds and leaving nothing but a golden scar and since meeting Mac, Jack _has_ actually done his best to try and educate himself more on magic users so he feels he knows more than the average person at this point.

He finds nothing beyond the basics for a good two hours during which he only gets up to fetch the battery charger. But Phoenix has access to more databases, most of which are obscure, no one should know about, type databases and eventually, he finds a reference to healing with golden lines. Its an entry from a seer, and Jack doesn’t know how old that entry is, because seers are supposed to be extinct. It talks about a Warlock who does not wield the power of magic, rather he _is_ the magic. There’s also some text written in old runes, and while Jack might be proficient in many languages, dead languages are not among them. Its conspicuous that there’s no translation in the file, so Jack prints a copy off. He has some contacts, someone he knows might speak ancient squiggly line.

Four hours have now passed without noise or movement from Mac’s bedroom. When Jack checks on him again, Mac has rolled over onto his other side, one arm hanging limply off the side of the bed to skim the floor. Shaking his head, Jack places it back on the bed, Mac’s only response being to snuggle deeper into his pillow.

Before he’s given it any thought, his hand has brushed back Mac’s hair on his forehead and is checking his temperature. Its such a paternal thing to do, and he feels like an imposter for doing it, but at the same time, Jack has a feeling Mac could do with some surrogate parenting in his life.

Mac feels a little warm to the touch, but Jack holds off digging out a thermometer. Even if he is running a bit of a fever, sleep is probably still the best thing for him and he’s loathe to wake Mac again before he needs to. He’ll keep an eye on it, he decides and vows to not leave it so long before he checks on him again.

* * *

Jack takes a nap himself on the sofa, only waking when he hears the key in the front door. He doesn’t have his gun on him but he quickly relaxes when he realises its Bozer, and _what time is it_? He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, as he focuses on his watch, damn, he slept for a few hours he didn’t mean to. Bozer’s humming a tune as he comes in that stops abruptly when he sees Jack sat on the sofa.

“Hey Jack, I noticed you guys got in last night, guessing it was pretty late? Where’s Mac?” He asks, and Jack winces, motioning him to bring his voice down a notch.

“What?” Bozer asks quieter. “Where’s Mac?” He repeats, suspicious now.

“He’s sleeping.” Jack decides to go with the least alarming option.

“In the middle of the day?”

“Well, technically its late afternoon, almost evening--”

“Jack!” Bozer hisses as loud as he dares.

“There was an accident and Mac had to use his magic, and I guess he used too much.” Jack confesses.

Its weird, being able to be so open and honest about the magic with Bozer, yet having to hide the true nature of their work at the Phoenix Foundation. He’s much more used to it being the other way around. At work, the less people that know about Mac’s abilities, the better.

Bozer nods, looking concerned but not overly worried, which prompts Jack to wonder just how often this has happened before. Up until now, a good nap and a large meal had been enough to restore Mac’s strength and have him back to his usual self.

“Has this happened before? Mac needing this much time to… what? Recharge his batteries?”

Bozer nods, his eyes heavy and dark. He doesn’t expand on it, and Jack realises even if he asked Bozer wouldn’t. It isn’t his story to tell.

“How many times has it been bad?”

“Once.” Bozer says quietly, and he leaves it at that. They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, Jack’s not going to push it, not yet anyway and Bozer seems far away, as if he’s stuck in some distant memory. They both look up when they hear the quiet snick of a door opening.

Mac shuffles in, sweatpants low on his hips and t-shirt riding up as he rubs at an eye with the back of a hand. He has pillow creases imprinted on one cheek and his hair doesn’t look like its seen a comb in a week.

“Mornin’” Jack says trying not to smile.

“Actually, its evening now.” Bozer corrects, not even hiding his smile. He gets up and grabs Mac’s elbow herding him over to sit in his now vacant seat. “Sit. I’m gonna get changed out my uniform then cook up some burgers for us all.”

Mac still hasn’t said anything, and Jack starts to wonder if he’s been known to sleep walk. His stare is somewhat vacant and he looks like he only has one cylinder firing, sputtering along.

“How you doing there, sleeping beauty?”

Mac yawns. Big and deep.

“You even awake?”

“’M fine.” He croaks, his voice rusty from sleep.

But the way his cheeks are flushed and he lets his head fall back to rest against the back of the sofa, makes Jack reach out, feeling his forehead again except this time Mac twists away with a scowl.

“Think you’ve got a bit of a temperature, hoss.”

“It’ll go away.” Mac says, shrugging a shoulder, resigned, and Jack aches to ask about the other times that Mac’s had to deal with this.

Mac manages to stay awake through dinner and clears half his plate, which considering how much Bozer stacked on there isn’t as bad as it sounds. He’s not chatty, monosyllabic answers and grunts are the most they get out of him so they learn to just let him be. Bozer puts on a movie but they’re no more than ten minutes in when Jack realises Mac’s dozing off in the corner.

Mac scowls at him when Jack wakes him up but there’s no way Jack’s letting him fall asleep on the sofa. Mac may be lean, but he’s also a lot of heavy muscle to carry. Jack also ends up escorting him back to his room, as he’s also too tired to make much effort at walking in a straight line. He holds off tucking him in this time, but only just.

* * *

When Jack gets up in the morning he goes to check on Mac, but the bed is empty and he can hear the shower running in the background. Taking this as a good sign he leaves to figure out some kind of breakfast. A post-it by the stove tells him that Bozer has gone to work and _CALL ME IF HE’S NOT BETTER_ is underlined three times.

There’s also batter mix in the fridge and spends a moment debating what he could possibly do to bribe Bozer into becoming _his_ roomie. He has two plates of waffles ready and waiting by the time Mac comes out his room, hair mussed and damp, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

“Morning!”

“Morning.” Mac grunts, then notices the plates. “You made waffles?”

“I _cooked_ waffles.” Jack corrects.

Mac frowns and opens his mouth to dispute the difference when Jack cuts him off.

“Bozer left batter mix in the fridge, I just followed his instructions.” Jack eyes Mac, he certainly looks a lot better than yesterday, in clean clothes and freshly shaved. There’s also a light in his eyes that had been missing before that Jack hadn’t truly noticed until he sees it return now and something in his gut unclenches in relief.

“How you feeling today?”

“Good.” Mac says with a small smile. “Hungry.” He adds, eyeing the stack of waffles eagerly. All good signs but despite his own hunger, there’s one last thing Jack needs to check on.

“Hold up for a second, how’s that wound?” Jack asks, pointing a finger at Mac’s shirt and wiggling it upwards until Mac rolls his eyes and lifts the shirt obediently. Mac didn’t bother replacing the dressing after his shower and to be fair, it no longer looks like it needs one. Its healing well, half scabs and half gold sections that are bright but no longer shimmer.

“Happy?”

“Thrilled.” Jack deadpans. “But I’ll be happier after we tuck into these. Where’s the syrup gone? You’d better not be out.” Jack warns as he grabs the cutlery.

* * *

A full stomach and a mug of coffee each and they’ve relocated to the deck outside. It feels good to get some fresh air after the last couple of days and Jack enjoys the warmth of the sun on his face. Mac must think so too because he’s leaning back against the rail, his head tipped up towards the sun. Jack takes a perch next to him.

“So, I think we need to have a conversation about what happened a few days ago.”

If he hadn’t been watching Mac’s face, Jack might have missed the slight wince that was quickly hidden. Jack gets it, neither of them are very good at emotional stuff. Mac’s had a lifetime of hiding who he is from everyone, to say he has trust issues is very much an understatement. An entirely valid one in Jack’s opinion but he tries everyday to make sure Mac knows he can trust Jack.

“Yeah, I had a feeling you might want to say something.”

“You can’t do that again.” Jack says, calmly and firmly. He’d had a nightmare last night of waking up healed only to find Mac lifeless next to him, and the mental image has been haunting him ever since. Knowing Mac’s self sacrificing nature, its an all too real possibility that he wants to stop, _right now_.

He feels Mac tense next to him. “I understand. I had a feeling you’d say that.” Mac says, sounding oddly resigned. “And I wish I could promise you that, but I _can’t_. And I understand if that means you don’t want to be my overwatch any more.”

Jack lifts his eyebrows in surprise. How did they go from ‘don’t hurt yourself to save me’ to ‘its okay if you want to leave me?’ He tries to replay the conversation in his head and figure out where he went wrong.

“Do you think Patty will assign me someone else?” Mac continues, his eyes wide and full of worry. “Just don’t let her fire me, Jack. I need this job.” And Jack knows he doesn’t mean he needs the regular pay check, but he needs the job like Jack needs the job. “Maybe, I dunno, maybe I could work solo. That way nobody would get hurt next time.”

He’ll work solo over Jack’s dead body.

“Hey! I don’t know what you’re on about but I ain’t leaving you, kid. That’s not what I meant, and it wasn’t an ultimatum.”

“Then what?”

Mac is truly confused and Jack feels like they’re not even on the same page so he tries again, this time with more clarity.

“You can’t heal me like that again.”

Guilt replaces the confusion on Mac’s face.

“I--I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry, I know the scar’s going to be hard to explain, if I could have done it another--”

“I don’t care about the scar, I care about how you damn near killed yourself to save me, _that_ is what cannot happen again.” Jack explains. “I’m exceptionally fond of living, but not at the expense of you, Mac.”

“But I was the one that hurt you.” Mac says incredulous, like Jack is the one who doesn’t get it. “I _had_ to put it right. I had to. And I can’t promise that won’t happen again, you don’t know what its like, I--I can’t control the magic sometimes. And if I hurt you again, I’m going to heal you Jack. I can’t, if you-- Don’t ask me not to save you, Jack.”

Mac’s rambling and barely taking a breath as he gets more worked up. Jack can almost feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves and he wonders if Mac can actually _do_ that or if he’s just imagining it. Either way, Jack moves to stand in front of him, hands on his shoulders and ducking his head to catch Mac’s eyes. Enough is enough, he _needs_ Mac to understand this.

“Mac. It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to, I took some friendly fire, its not great, but in the heat of battle it happens. I don’t blame you.” Jack’s firm, trying to inject as much reassurance into his words as possible. “What’s important is that we learn from it, I know now to take cover, we’ll be more careful. But if something _does_ happen. I need you to promise me you won’t go too far. If I wake up to find out that you’ve sacrificed yourself to save me? That will kill me, Mac. Don’t do that to me.”

Mac’s pale and shaky in a way that makes Jack want to bundle him off back to bed but he nods silently. He looks like he wants to bolt and there’s enough tension in his shoulders to make Jack’s own shoulders ache in sympathy but he doesn’t move away, and that says a lot.

“You promise?” Jack asks.

Mac nods again.

“I need to hear you say it, hoss.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” Jack says, and moves his hands around Mac’s shoulders to tug him closer. “C’mere.”

They hug, tightly, both of them using it to try and erase their memories of what could have happened on this mission. Mac breaks it off sooner than Jack would like, but that’s okay, the kid’s getting better at it and that’s what matters.

Besides, they’ll have plenty of time to practice if Jack has anything to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really is the last chapter but I am planning on writing more in this AU!


End file.
